


Passions Returned Aplenty

by daphnerunning



Series: What is Wrought Between Us [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, Maedhros Sex Ed, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: In returning Findekáno to his father's house in Tirion, Maitimo receives an invitation to supper that he cannot refuse, and for once, it is someone else's brother that is the problem.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: What is Wrought Between Us [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019358
Comments: 22
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

Was it really an invitation if it could not be refused?

Maitimo thought it was rather an order. And an order he had received, when he’d been spotted in the streets of Tirion, walking Findekáno back to his father’s house.

“Nelyo? Ah, but of course it’s you,” cried Turukáno, looking from his brother to his cousin, then back again. “With that hair of Mahtan himself, and nearly as tall as me. I thought you were exiled from the city.”

Findekáno shot his brother a hard look, which he ignored, cheerfully having a conversation with Maitimo above his head. “But if you’re here, you must give us all the news of Formenos.”

Maitimo inclined his head, dropping his hand from Findekáno’s. “I doubt there is any news worth speaking, cousin. And if I haven’t been exiled myself, I at least choose to abide there, as my father is bidden to do.”

The door to the residence opened, and Maitimo’s heart sank along with his hopes of escaping cleanly from the situation. “Nelyafinwë,” his uncle said, his voice somewhere between wary and welcoming, looking between him and Findekáno. “For you to be here...well, come inside, share a meal. Turukáno has insisted upon a small feast tonight. You mustn’t refuse my hospitality.”

It did not feel like an invitation. It felt like an order from an elder prince, even if something stubborn in Maitimo stiffened his spine. _Would you invite my father in, if it were he standing on your doorstep?_

Findekáno squeezed his arm, though, and Maitimo unbent, enough to nod and say, “Of course, Uncle. Thank you for the invitation.”

He followed them inside, Turukáno openly giving him an openly distrustful look the entire way. He bore that look, and privately thought he understood the temptation of drawing a sword on one of his kinfolk, as his father had done.

“Father, tonight is supposed to be just family,” Turukáno muttered, tall and imposing. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Findekáno tread on his foot, giving him a hard silver stare.

“You wouldn’t dishonor Father’s hospitality, would you?” he asked his younger brother, with a smile that Maitimo would not have liked to receive. It reminded him too much of the one he’d given his own younger brothers, when they were particularly intransigent, and most likely presaged a wrestling match.

In many ways, it was no different than any meal Maitimo had attended at his uncle’s house in the days of his youth. The food was well-chosen, wild fruits and game set alongside magnificent breads and cakes, as if this truly were a wedding feast. The thought warmed him under the skin, the memory of their recent consummation filling him until he had to set down his silverware, taking a moment to compose his face and feelings. Findekáno was not helping, giving him occasional searching, heated looks, as if he, too, felt as if he’d left part of his spirit on a cliff overlooking Alqualondë.

Arakáno was full of questions about Formenos, his youthful voice giving the meal a sense of cheer and welcome that felt odd after months in his father’s house, and he answered as best he could, sharing tales of Pityo and Telvo, as Findekáno’s youngest brother had been great friends with the Ambarussa before the exile.

The contributions from both Anairë and Írissë, seated to the left of Ñolofinwë, were likewise unusual in Maitimo’s ear, putting him in mind of meals long ago taken with his own mother, though a sister he’d never had. It had not seemed so unusual before Formenos, when the brothers and their father ate simple meals alone or in pairs when they hungered, and no woman’s voice ever laughed.

It was Ñolofinwë’s voice that drove all thoughts of the pleasure he had shared with Findekáno from his mind, as he set to the soup. “How is my brother Fëanor?” he asked, and though Maitimo strained, he could hear nothing in the words but genuine curiosity and affection. No, perhaps there was regret also, and Maitimo’s heart softened to hear it.

Perhaps there was hope after all.

Maitimo smiled, and set his spoon next to his bowl. “His forge burns day and night,” he said carefully, choosing his words for diplomacy. “I...have hope, Uncle. I believe the strife between our houses will soon be mended. At least, that is my wish.”

Beneath the table, he felt Findekáno’s knee shift to lay against his own, and took heart from the contact.

Watching his uncle’s face sometimes made him uneasy. It was as if he saw his father and his cousin melted together, into a powerful elf that showed both passion and wisdom in his grey eyes. At his words, Ñolofinwë’s eyes crinkled at the sides, nearly a smile. “I wish for that, too. You may tell him so. Glad I am that my son has brought you back to the streets of Tirion, even if just for a moment, so I might send him that message of reconciliation--aye, and love, if he will listen to it.”

“I cannot promise that he will listen,” Maitimo warned, “but I promise he will hear it, from my lips.”

“Good. Then let us speak no more of the matter tonight, for it was no strife of your creation, Nelyafinwë.”

“Instead,” Turukáno put in, leaning forward and giving Maitimo a hard stare, “might we speak of the reason for the gathering of us here tonight?”

Ñolofinwë blinked at him, then nodded, waving a hand as he returned to his meal. “Of course. You had something to say, did you not?”

Beside Maitimo, he felt Findekáno stiffen. Írissë looked up in curiosity, and Arakáno grinned, as if he knew what was coming.

Turukáno drew in a breath, and from his breast pocket, pulled a silver ring. Maitimo felt his own suddenly cold against his chest beneath his shirt. “Elenwë of the Vanyar and I seek your permission to be betrothed, Father, Mother.”

That was all. No speech upon the glory and mercy of unity amid strife, no passionate declaration of the love he bore and why it should be accepted. Maitimo felt Findekáno’s hand on his thigh, not from any desired intimacy, but clutching with barely-suppressed emotion. Jealousy was there; he could feel it, he realized, without attempting ósonwë. Experimentally, he sent a pulse of love and assurance back, and felt Findekáno’s hand ease slightly on his leg.

“Is she the pretty one with gold hair?” Írissë asked, head cocked. “I thought she might have refused you.”

“Refuse me?” Turukáno demanded, and Maitimo rather thought he was about to watch a wrestling match after all. “Why should she?”

Írissë shrugged, and turned back to her meal. “You should have at least considered it. A maiden may refuse, you know.”

“Of course a maiden _may_ , but why should she, if she wants to be wed to me?” Turukáno’s face was flushed. “And she does!”

“Will you go and live with her?” Arakáno asked. “Or will she move in here? She can’t have my room.”

“She won’t be sleeping in your room, Aro,” Írissë said very seriously. “She’ll be sleeping in Turo’s room, so they can make children.”

Arakáno’s mouth opened in obvious curiosity, but Turukáno slapped a hand over his mouth to forestall any further questions, his mood obviously dark. “I’ll make us our own house,” he growled. “And it will be larger and more beautiful than any you’ve ever seen. There will be _fountains_.”

“I want a room there,” Írissë declared at once. “Mother, can I live in Turo’s fountain house?”

“Me, too!” Arakáno insisted, wriggling free of his brother’s hand. “I want to live in the fountain house! We haven’t got _any_ fountains!”

Anairë laughed, and rose from the table, moving to embrace her middle son. “I am happy for you,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “And for her, to be betrothed to such a noble soul.”

“Agreed,” said Ñolofinwë, and his voice rang with the tone of command. Maitimo swallowed; he sounded so much like Grandfather Finwë sometimes, it was strange. “If you are certain, we are pleased to learn of it. I know you for a person of honor, one not to make decisions lightly. If this is your will, I will bless your union.”

Turukáno smiled, no trace of his earlier hostility in his face, and Maitimo saw the fair youth that Elenwë of the Vanyar must see in him, beautiful in his happiness. “Thank you,” he said gravely to his parents, and speared a piece of fruit with his eating knife, clearly considering the conversation over.

“Well-timed, Nelyafinwë,” Ñolofinwë said, amused. “You arrived for a meal, and found yourself at a celebration. Findekáno, you’re quiet. Have you no words for your brother upon his betrothal?”

All eyes turned to Findekáno. He looked up from his meal, and for just the flicker of a second, Maitimo saw a flash of pain in his eyes, and knew himself, or their hidden union, to be the cause.

But he mastered himself, and gave his younger brother a brilliant smile. “The joining of two in love is a beautiful thing,” he said, his voice strong and true. “I wish you all joy of your intended, brother, and she of you.”

Something flickered in Turukáno’s face in turn, but he only nodded. “Thank you, brother. May your own passions be likewise returned someday, if the Valar deem it so.”

 _His passions are returned aplenty now, whether the Valar will or no,_ Maitimo longed to say, but after that, how could he? Instead, he raised his own glass. “To your matrimony, cousin,” he said, and meant it. “May the Valar bless every moment you spend in each other’s company, from now until the breaking of the world.”

“Well said,” Anairë said, and raised her own glass. “To Turukáno and Elenwë, may all their days be happy ones.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He read my mind,” Findekáno growled, pacing the length of his room. Maitimo stretched out on the bed, grateful that he was far from the only tall elf in the line of Finwë, and the furniture was built to accommodate even one of his stature. He watched as Findekáno paced, clearly agitated, muttering, “How else could it have been today? Could we have been so unlucky? They were in a good mood, Father wants to reconcile, it would have been the perfect time, stupid Turo.”

“Finno, love,” Maitimo said softly, and extended a hand. “What matter this day or another? This is a good thing. Turukáno will be happier for us if he’s satisfied in his own suit, don’t you think? And your mother will not be so regretful about the lack of a child, if she has hope of one being produced from Elenwë already.”

“Is not our love enough, for the sake of what is between us?” Findekáno demanded. “Must it be _productive_ to be admirable?”

Maitimo held up his hands, not wishing to fight. “Of course. For me. More children didn’t bring my parents closer together, after all.”

Findekáno’s face constricted for a moment. Then he sighed, and came to the bed, crawling to rest on all fours over Maitimo’s lanky form. “I know this is merely ill chance, and not a curse,” he said, lips quirking to one side. “I believe I would feel myself accursed, if it were so. I only...I would wish the ease of it, as Turo has. I want only to share our happiness, and not cause further division.”

Maitimo reached up, resting his hands on the lean muscles of Findekáno’s back, feeling his tension begin to ease. “I fear it’s too late for me to release you to pursue Elenwë,” he teased. “Even if I were willing to relinquish what’s mine.”

“Relinquish? Release?” Findekáno’s eyes blazed, and Maitmo’s breath caught in his lungs, the sudden memory of their joining arcing through his still-sore body. “I relinquish nothing, Maitimo. If you would be released, petition the Creator himself for it, but I will argue against you every breath of the way, and I am _very_ good at arguing, ask Turo.”

“Finno...”

Findekáno’s hands parted his clothes, so easily it was as if once had been enough to teach him the way of it for life. Arousal surged in Maitimo at the motion, helpless and unable to resist, and he found his own fingers at quick work stripping Findekáno in turn, until they were nude in Findekáno’s bed under the coverlet, bodies twined together.

Findekáno’s hand brushed his face, and he whispered, “I know matters are heavy, Maitimo, but even thinking of it...do you feel it, too? As if any moment you might be back there, with me touching you? I fear I’ll never have enough.”

“Nor will I,” Maitimo breathed, and embraced him.

Mouths moved against each other, warm and soft, for long moments before Findekáno pulled away, his eyes intent in the low light. “I mean it,” he said, and Maitimo felt him tremble against his chest. “I fear I’ll never have enough. Do others feel this way, when they’re first joined? I can’t imagine being satisfied, no matter how many touches I claim from you.”

“Then don’t be satisfied,” Maitimo said, and pressed him down into the bed, covering his body with his own. “And you’ll have more touches than you can claim, whenever you wish them. Don’t shiver, Finno, I’ll take care of you.”

He would. If it broke his body and mind to pieces, he would. If it made him an exile from Arda itself, he would. Anything, as long as Findekáno was safe in his arms, could be borne.

Findekáno slid arms around his neck, pressing up against him in an eager arch of his body. He leaned in, mouthing hot against Maitimo’s ear, nipping and sucking at the flesh before whispering, “I want to do it again.” The words were almost shy, but so eager it made Maitimo’s body rouse at once.

Maitimo wrapped a long leg around Findekáno’s hips, twisting them so the other lay atop him. “Then take me. Come home inside of me, beloved.”

The first press was difficult, and spiked pain through his body, but no matter. Maitimo had often been lauded as the most stubborn son of Fëanor, and ignored the discomfort, and hid it, murmuring soft words of praise and encouragement, carding his hands through the soft dark hair that spilled around his face. Findekáno’s cock was slick in any case with the evidence of his lust, and before long Maitimo felt him sliding in easier, and the pleasure he breathed at the last was unfeigned.

Findekáno groaned, and slumped forward, coming to rest on Maitimo’s chest. Then he blinked, and levered himself upright again, peering down in the dim light of the curtained room. “Did I do it wrong?” he asked uncertainly, reaching down for Maitimo’s still-hard length.

That brought a laugh to Maitimo’s lips, no matter how he stifled it to try and keep quiet. “Not at all. I’m slow today, that’s all. Trying to be quiet was the culprit, I think.”

Findekáno gave him a stern look. It had little force, given as it was when they were still joined, though he was rapidly softening, and pulled out. “You’re too modest, my Maitrus. But here, this is as good an opportunity as any. Show me what it feels like.”

A qualm of misgiving went through Maitimo at that, and Findekáno saw at once. “What?” he demanded, keeping his voice hushed for privacy, but intent nonetheless. “Are you unwilling to share? Is it some taboo I know not of?”

“If it is, I know naught of it either. I only...” Maitimo shrugged, feeling himself clench, the slick mess between his thighs sparking little shudders of pleasure and pain through him at intervals. “You may not like it. I want you to love everything between us.”

“You like it when I do it to you, don’t you?” Findekáno asked, brow furrowed.

“Of course.” Maitimo surged up, kissing him deeply, leaving no doubt. “Feel how hard I am? You think that feigned?”

“No...” Findekáno’s frown deepened, though his hand didn’t stop moving up and down on Maitimo’s cock. “But you’re hiding something.”

Ah, well, he had tried, and been caught. Maitimo smiled ruefully, and admitted, “We were over-hasty. Myself as well, I didn’t wish to wait. But if I’m to show you how it feels, I’ll do it properly, or not at all.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Findekáno complained. “Show me.”

Maitimo sighed, and turned, rolling out of the bed. “Give me a moment to cleanse myself. Where do you keep the oil for your hair? I haven’t been here in ages.”

“The shelf above the window, on the left. Why?”

Maitimo fetched a cloth, and cleaned himself with ewer and basin, turning his face away so Findekáno didn’t see him grimace. That duty finished, he tossed the cloth into a sack of laundry, and grabbed the pot of oil, returning to the bedside. “Because I’m terribly impatient with myself, but wish to take more care with you.”

Findekáno’s eyes grew more suspicious with each passing moment. “I knew it,” he muttered. “I knew I wasn’t doing it right. But it felt so good, I’m sorry--“

“Hush.” Maitimo silenced him with the word, and a kiss. “I took what I wanted, and now I’ll do as I please. Lay back, and part your thighs.”

Findekáno did as he was bidden, propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes tracked the motion as Maitimo knelt on the bed between his legs, slicking his fingers. “If you dislike this at all, tell me.”

Findekáno nodded, looking down at him, his cock hardening in obvious anticipation. Maitimo couldn’t help but wonder if this was something they would share, or if he was better suited to it after all, as he’d privately suspected, though he had no real reason to think so. He doubted such a thing showed on one’s face.

He reached a slick finger down, then slowly breached Findekáno’s hole, feeling him tense immediately. “Let me know if you’re going to cry out,” he warned, and gripped a pillow with his left hand, mock-threatening. “So that I may smother you rather than have your brother walk in on you as I take liberties.”

A flush crept up Findekáno’s face at that, and his cock hardened again. Interesting, Maitimo noted, as he slid his finger in further, and leaned down to whisper against Findekáno’s ear. “I think my husband likes the idea of being...hmm, is it the idea of being smothered that you like? Or being caught that makes you blush?”

Findekáno squirmed, but Maitimo crooked his finger, and the squirming changed tone immediately, Findekáno panting and wriggling on his finger rather than trying to bite him. “I--nnh, neither, I’m blushing because you’ve got your hand inside of me!”

“Shh. That’s _hardly_ my hand, Finno, though I can’t deny my fingers are long...” He slid it in the rest of the way, easing and twisting, before pulling it out to add the tip of the second one, and Findekáno’s breath caught.

“That’s...more,” he murmured, grey eyes lidded. “Maitimo...I thought, I thought this would be easier, you made it look...”

“Told you. I’m impatient, when it comes to taking what I want.”

Findekáno’s hand raked down his back, a needy little whine coming from his mouth that made Maitimo extremely hard, extremely fast. It was difficult enough to focus when Findekáno was here, and naked, and clutching at him, never mind the slick hot squeeze of his hole around Maitimo’s fingers, promising further delights. “Maitrus...talk to me,” he whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

Maitimo leaned down, covering Findekáno’s body with his own lean form, as he worked his fingers slowly in and out, stretching and twisting. “Shall I tell you how lovely you are?” he asked, his left hand releasing the pillow to brush over Findekáno’s cheek, tracing the beloved contours of his face. “Shall I tell you how long I’ve thought of bedding you? Or how happy you make me?”

Findekáno’s eyes opened, and a fierce hot mischief flared in them. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me,” he breathed. “And what you’ve thought of doing to me.”

 _I should have known you’d pick that option_ , Maitimo thought to himself, amused and aroused all at once. He nodded, and bent so his mouth was resting against Findekáno’s ear, fingers curling and stroking inside of him, the oil making everything slick and easy and fragrant. “Since the first time I saw you, I loved you. But the first time I wanted you and knew what wanting was...” He considered, then mused, “I must have been seventy or so. You were what, half that? All coltish legs and elbows, always running and climbing where you should not. You pushed me into the sea, do you remember?”

Findekáno hissed out a laugh, nodding, his eyes half-lidded. “You wouldn’t--swim with us, you didn’t want to lose the copper circlet you were wearing...”

“Aye, and you and Macalaurë and Ingoldo snuck up on me and shoved me in. And I came up--“

“Circlet in your hand--“

“Forget the blasted circlet,” Maitimo muttered, and twisted his fingers, making Findekáno squeak, then slap a hand over his mouth. “I saw you there, naked as a tern, with your hair plastered to your face and shoulders, and you had the most wicked grin on your face. Your eyes seemed to shine with Laurelin’s light.”

“You ran away,” Findekáno recalled, and bit his lip on a soft sound, his thighs parting wider, cock hard and dripping against his belly. “You kicked Macalaurë off a rock and ran, I thought you considered yourself too old for such games, so serious--“

Maitimo chuckled. “I was _hard_ , Finno. The sight of you like that...I ran home and brought myself off three times thinking of you pushing me to my knees in the sand.”

And then he’d wept, thinking of his brothers calling him _cousin-fucker_ and worse, and resolved to stare no more at his uncle’s eldest son, a promise he’d broken immediately and frequently. But that didn’t make for good erotic conversation, so he didn’t mention that part.

“What...” Findekáno licked his lips, and began to undulate slowly, as Maitimo matched the rhythm with his fingers, as if it were his cock working in and out of his husband. “What would I have done with you, when I’d pushed you to your knees on the beach, Maitrus?”

“I imagined you’d have grabbed my hair and shoved your cock into my mouth.” Maitimo waited for the shiver to go through Findekáno, then nipped at his ear, and felt the shudder intensify. “And fed me every drop of your seed.”

Findekáno’s face flamed with sudden color, and he reached up, fumbling at Matimo’s chest. “I can’t stand it any longer,” he declared, his gaze defiant. “You have pretty words for how we join together, say them and do it.”

“I’m hardly the wordsmith,” Maitimo muttered, but it was a faint protest, and he withdrew his fingers, using more of the oil to slick his cock as he lay between Findekáno’s parted thighs. “It’s only that I’ve spent more than a century thinking about making love with you.”

“You didn’t want to make love on that beach,” Findekáno said, looking up with a defiant light in his eyes. “You wanted to make me spill down your throat.”

Maitimo cursed as the words made him so hard he could barely think, and brought his cock to Findekáno’s hole, resting it against the slick opening. “I want to wring you out with pleasure,” he said, holding Findekáno’s gaze, and pressed in, groaning at the wet squeeze of friction around his cock, so much better than anything he’d imagined.

Findekáno’s legs spasmed, and he wrapped them around Maitimo’s waist, his breath hitching in sudden labored gasps, clinging to Maitimo’s back. “You’re-- _very_ large there,” he said, and the words sounded lost.

Maitimo bent to kiss him, tilting up his face, forcing his hips to still. “I can stop,” he offered, seeing tears prick at Findekáno’s eyes.

Findekáno glared up at him, and shoved his shoulder, hard. “You think you can endure what I cannot?” he demanded. “So solicitous with me, yet caring nothing for yourself, your own pain? You would have me injure you, yet deny me even the smallest discomfort in exchange for greater pleasures for you?”

“That’s going a little far,” Maitimo said with a huff, and rocked his hips, gently moving in and out by slow degrees, until Findekáno was hard and aching between them once more, and the look in his eyes was dark with pleasure.

“There,” he said with satisfaction, and finally thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt, making Findekáno strangle a moan. He thrust in, and again, mouthing over Findekáno’s shoulders, his mouth, his cheeks, feeling his control and patience begin to crumble.

He watched Findekáno’s face bloom into wonder and need, and felt a spike of envy shoot through him at the sight. It was one thing when that was just a thought, a theory, an anticipation, but now he _knew_ how Findekáno’s cock felt opening him up, sliding in deep and making him beg.

Findekáno caught it, and laughed breathlessly, reaching up to tug at his hair. “It’s good,” he assured Maitimo, and added with a lopsided smile and a cant upwards of his hips, “but not so good that I don’t want to have you spread out on my cock next time. Even--even now, like this, you’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

Maitimo nodded helplessly, unable to deny Findekáno any truth when they were joined like this. “I love being like this with you, no matter how, Finno...”

Findekáno spread his legs wider, twisting down to rut harder onto Maitimo’s cock, his mouth tensing as they ground together even harder. “M-Maitrus,” he whispered, his head falling backwards, knocking against the headboard with an audible _whack_.

Maitimo choked down a laugh, clutching at every part of Findekáno he could reach, nipping at his ears, bending to kiss his neck as he thrust in, feeling pleasure rising underneath his skin until he thought he might explode. “Finno, are you close? I’m--I’m _so_ close _\--_

Findekáno nodded almost frantically, raking nails down Maitimo’s back. “Can’t take anymore,” he managed, his body tense and trembling with the force of Maitimo’s thrusts into him.

“Just a little bit more, just--“

“Findekáno?” The voice was low, but unmistakably Turukáno, from outside the door.

Maitimo’s eyes went wide, and he froze, hardly daring to breathe. His uncle’s family knew he was spending the night, of course, but there was a difference between ‘spending the night’ and ‘spending the night swiving Ñolofinwë’s heir into his own mattress.’

Findekáno stared up at him, eyes wide as if he were a rabbit sighted by Tykelkormo’s hounds. He swallowed hard, blood pounding so quickly Maitimo could hear it. “What?” he called back, trying his best to sound normal.

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

Turukáno exhaled a frustrated sigh, audible even through the door. “Finno, please. I would give you an apology.”

“Accepted,” Findekáno groaned. “If you _go_ , I’m...I’m sleeping!”

“I heard a noise, so I thought--“

“Turo, I will throw you into the sea in front of Elenwë’s family,” Findekáno groaned, as Maitimo collapsed on top of him into helpless giggles at the absurdity of it all. “And--and you’re not helping!” he hissed, giving Maitimo’s shoulder a shove.

Turukáno’s voice came through again, disapproving. “Whatever you two are up to...just don’t do anything that’ll get you exiled, too.”

Footsteps sounded, fading back into Turukáno’s room, as Findekáno’s face changed to indignant anger. “That little prick, I’ll throttle him.”

“Finno--“

“Get myself exiled, I’ll exile _him_ \--“

Maitimo reached down between them, and palmed Findekáno’s cock. Predictably, he fell silent, then gasped when Maitimo moved, reminding him viscerally that they were still linked. “So it wasn’t _actually_ that you wanted to be walked in on, hmm?” he teased.

Findekáno shook his head, reaching up to tangle both of his hands in Maitimo’s hair, dragging him down for a bruising kiss, teeth rasping against lips, coming away tasting of iron. “I only want you,” he breathed. “Seeing me like this...only you.”

Maitimo’s heart could have burst. He dropped his head, took hold of Findekáno’s hips, and started to rock in, an urgent, determined rhythm that stole his own breath with the slick tight heat of it around his cock. “You’re mine,” he whispered, and if it wasn’t his most romantic phrase, it at least had the intended effect.

Fire raced up his spine as Findekáno clutched at him, and then his vision fizzled into sparks, and both of them were muffling cries into each others’ shoulders, holding so tightly bones creaked. Findekáno clung to him through the tremors, gasping into his hair as he slowly came down, finally relaxing, boneless upon the bed.

Maitimo carefully removed himself, and wrapped his arms around his lover, burying his face in Findekáno’s hair. “Never think,” he said softly, “that our love is not enough, just because no child will grow from it.”

Findekáno made a little snuffling noise against his neck, and mumbled something.

“Hmm? What was that?” Maitimo pulled back, enough that he could hear clearly.

“I said,” Findekáno repeated, looking up balefully at Maitimo, “you did not accurately represent what that feels like, from the other side.”

“Ah. Did you hate it, then? You never have to do it again.”

“I did not,” Findekáno said, with as much dignity as he could muster in the situation. “But I have a theory. An accusation.”

Maitimo’s mouth quivered with barely-suppressed laughter. “Do you indeed?”

“Yes. You practiced.”

“I--what?”

“You,” Findekáno said firmly, looking up at him suspiciously, “spent time alone with a pot of oil before we swore our vows.”

A hot flush rose in Maitimo’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat, suddenly becoming very interested in the patterns of the tapestries on the wall. “Ah...”

“I do not love you for your secrets,” Findekáno informed him in a huff, and rolled to face away from him when he laughed again.

**Author's Note:**

> Still two more pre-Oath installments! Will Update For Comments <3


End file.
